Look
by D McVetty
Summary: Whats so hard to understand about a Love Triangle? Craig/Kenny/Kyle, for Ketamine Methanol /heart


**note ;; **This is for ketamine . methanol cuz he's like, tha best frond ever. Srsly.

**other than that note ;;** Craig/Kenny/Kyle love triangle. Ironically, in alphabetical order. I didn't do that on purpose. L-O-FUCKING-L. Its not even dramatic. I mean, Craig isn't that dramatic, amirite? He's pretty darn apathetic. I like that, its easy to write. Its kinda rambly, but I like it. Comments please?

**another note ;;** I'll be working on my other stuff eventually. I just needed the new inspiration.

* * *

Look, its not hard to understand. I love Kenny, he loves Kyle, and Kyle loves both of us equally, or some kind of bullshit like that. I always figured him for a pussy, so its not a surprise that Kenny just _insisted_ he had to come along. It was my idea for a date, and I even ditched my best friend to do this. And now I had to pay for Kyle to come along, too. Don't get me wrong, I like Kyle. I _like_ Kyle a lot, but not quite as much as I _love_ Kenny, and love is a real stretch for me. I'm the King of Indifference, Craig Motherfucking Tucker. Love is something awesome and I'm something neutral. So when I say I love McCormick, I mean it. So there's no surprise when he's in my passenger seat, choking down a bag of stale pretzels, and I'm thinking more about him than the road ahead. You know, the kind of things couples think of each other. Only, we're not a couple, we're a threesome, and that's fine with me as long as I get my fair share.

Which, in my honest and blunt opinion, I am not. Kyle is in my backseat, bitching about stale pretzels having salmonella. I quickly assure him that, no, no they do _not_ have salmonella on them, they've been in my truck for the last three months and I know my truck doesn't have salmonella, so they're okay. This only satisfies the cranky Jew for a while, until he's saying something about my speakers being blown.

I turn those bitches up and watch him in the rearview mirror as he winces, but to his credit, he doesn't put his hands over his ears. I like that. So, after a few refrains of _Bad Company_ by Five Finger Death Punch blares over my _not_-blown-out-speakers, I turn it back down. Kenny gives me a glance that says _What the fuck man, I was enjoying that_ but he doesn't _say_ anything, so I leave the speakers at their pleasantly muted volume as we keep driving.

Its like that's all I ever do anymore. I get in the car and I drive around the two people I like, one significantly more than the other, and then I go home and go to bed. I guess summer does that to you. I don't feel strongly one way or another about summer, its boring and that's the way I like things. But this summer is hinting on the less boring edge and its starting to make me worry. Am I actually going to have to be interesting this summer? Do these two think I'm going to play their silly games and do those silly things that they do during the summer? According to McCormick, they don't get in as much shit during summer, and that makes things boring. Boring with these people is like an adventure in Disney for normal people, if the rides came to life and started eating people. Imagine it, the Pirates of the Caribbean animatronics come to life and start chopping limbs off of visitors, cooking them over fires started by Mickey Mouse or some shit. That's the kind of crazy shit I wouldn't mind watching.

Part of my irritation with Broflovski happens to be that I skipped out on a monthly ritual with Tweek Tweak just to hang out with Kenny, who happens to be attached at the hip to Kyle. Unrequited love is the worst. But I can't say that, because its not unrequited, its just split in two. Speaking of _split into two_, I've had a little trouble balancing my sex life with hanging with my best friend. I hear its common, but Tweek is starting to, well, _tweak_. He always had these problems with Underpants Gnomes, and, lets be serious, it's a ridiculous notion I've been entertaining since we were seven. Maybe I should have stopped, but I couldn't get enough of his crazy imagination and I get some kind of sick pleasure out of it. The story goes, as it were, that I am supposed to get coffee with him at Harbucks and then we hang out and stay at his house on the one day a month the Underpants Gnomes come. Apparently, he's old enough that they only come once in a while, but they always take his clean ones. Always.

Well, today I had the choice of sex or Underpants Gnomes, and like any good male, I chose the wrong decision.

Kenny is bitching now. Kyle tossed his pretzels out the window and there's a car behind us that looks an awful lot like Barbrady's, and the possibility of getting pulled over is being debated between the two as Kenny frequently bitches that they were perfectly edible and not at all contaminated. Now that I think about it, its probably a lie and they probably have _something_, because last week there was a raccoon in my car. Its South Park, I don't question it anymore.

It's a good thing we're at our destination, because I don't think I can take the Old Couple squabbling over my backseat anymore. I slam the truck into park and point, addressing Kenny's food woes with a few choice words, because as I so generously admit, I've brought the both of them to Casa Bonita, without the fatass lardbag they call a friend. They're too dumbstruck to answer me, as if they were expecting to drive all around Denver for no reason other than sight seeing. I know I'm boring, but I didn't think I was that boring. Come on, they're giving me this big doe-eyed stare and I almost think there's something on my lip before they both burst into joyful clucking. They surge out of my beat up Dodge, squawking about the food and the eats and how nice I am to treat us all to such a nice dinner.

I rub my temples for a moment, sighing. Yeah, I'm a nice guy. I only wanted to take Kenny. But seeing how happy the pair is makes me happy inside, even if I don't show it, so I get out of the truck and follow them inside. It wont hurt that much, to enjoy their company. And who knows, I might get lucky tonight. Stranger things have happened. I mean, I am walking into a restaurant with my gay lovers, treating them to a dinner instead of hanging out with my neurotic best friend. And somehow, Tweek is going to still forgive me. He always does. So just this one time, I'm going to let myself go.

Who fucking knows.

Maybe I'll smile.


End file.
